


After the Tide

by Anythingtoasted



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coda, Episode: s08e21 The Great Escapist, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-08
Updated: 2013-05-08
Packaged: 2017-12-10 19:20:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/789226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anythingtoasted/pseuds/Anythingtoasted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>8.21coda, slightly melancholy. <i>"It happened one night on the road, somewhere abreast of Atlanta. "</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	After the Tide

It happened one night on the road, somewhere abreast of Atlanta.

It comes back to him, now, in flashes; snatches of conversation, the way the stars looked. How the car had seemed warm and close in a way it hadn’t before, how he’d felt it coming for a long time but never believed it would really _happen._

He’d laid Cas down on the back seat and leant over him, breathing, unable to move; and the angel had kissed him, neck arching up to meet him, eyes never closing. How it went, then, from fluid kisses to shucking their clothes to Dean _coaxing_ him to come; working at him with his hand, keeping their eyes locked together; calling him _baby_ like he was in a fucking movie; Dean didn’t really remember. Only that it was the softest night of his life, only that their voices were pitched low, pulled over to the side of the road, keys left in the ignition, reckless (and _stupid_ now he thought about it, but at the time he hadn’t cared). He’d fucking _cooed_ in Castiel’s ear, _“C’mon, honey, give it up for me, c’mon,”_ and the _noise_ and the heat hadn’t left his hand, his ears, since; and it was special, though he couldn’t really explain it to anyone else. Sam maybe would have pulled a face, to know how it went after that; spiralling down the drain like so many other things in their lives, Cas falling further with each passing day, returning to them in the middle of the fucking night just to get his hands on Dean, Dean’s hands on him; and Dean just kept begging him, begging him to come back.

It crested; if fell apart. By now, Dean’s learned, things sometimes just _do._

But it haunts him, that first night, now; he thought he’d forgotten. He thought almost three years was enough to erase it, that tiny gasp in the shell of his ear; Cas gasping, arching beneath him, getting them so fucking _wet._ If anything, he remembers it too well – his heart pulling up, squeezing. How his hands hadn’t felt the same, days after.

Now Castiel has been dredged from the roadside and lies pliant, quiet, in his bed. It’s where Dean’s wanted him for years, now; never had the chance to actually bring him there (too busy, too angry, too tired) – but of course it’s just a step away from what he really wished for. He wonders when he’ll realise it’s easier just to stop wishing, altogether.

He tries to forget that noise, the wonder, the disbelief in the single syllable Castiel uttered back then; pressed to a too-hot leather seat at the side of the fucking highway, mouth sealed wet over Dean’s. But Castiel reaches for him in his stupor, delirious. He murmurs his name and Dean is transported to _before,_ before the apocalypse, before everything fucking fell to pieces. Before he stopped being the one who needed to be saved, and Cas started trying to fill in.

Dean can’t go to him; leaves him abortively roaming the sheets with his hands, clenching them in the cotton.

It’s what he wanted and it’s nothing like it; Castiel says his name, Castiel sweats and moans, _smiles_ with his eyes closed, hands searching; but Dean is not with him, and Castiel might be dying, and as usual, everything is just that little bit _wrong,_ is skewed.

When he gets some clarity – a rare thing – Dean thinks they were pretty fucking good, he and Cas, in the beginning. Maybe even in the end. Maybe they were even close to perfect; though that’s a thing he barely lets himself consider.

He knows Castiel wants Dean to touch him. He wants to bridge the distance, himself; but Castiel is always just that step out of reach, that edge away, and Dean wants to reach for him, he does; he just doesn’t know _how._


End file.
